


never do that again

by TolkienGirl



Series: Vintage Winchesters: Season 1 Tags [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Burns, Dean deals with fear and the idea that he might...sometimes have it, Episode: s01e15 The Benders, Gen, POV Dean Winchester, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25542223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolkienGirl/pseuds/TolkienGirl
Summary: The inescapable conclusion—Sam words, there, fancy-like—is that Dean can still be afraid for himself.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Vintage Winchesters: Season 1 Tags [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777720
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	never do that again

Sam cleaned the wound. Patched it up. Dean could have done it himself, but he didn’t have to.

“Shit like that should be X-Files territory only,” says Sam, after, when they’re sharing a few beers along with the harder stuff Dean keeps in the trunk. It’s not the first joke they’ve made, since—it was a long walk to the car, and they’re not much for sentimental silence—but Dean is now drunk enough to bark a laugh.

“House looked straight off the set. Jesus.”

Sam agrees. Sam packs up the first-aid kit. Dean probes the bandage with his fingers.

Nothing hurts like a burn. No wonder believing people paint Hell out in flames.

Dean hopes they never come back to Hibbing.

_You hurt my brother, I’ll kill you, I swear. I’ll kill you all._

Dean _swears_ they’ll never come back to Hibbing.

_Next time, I’ll take an eye._

His vision wobbles a bit.

The inescapable conclusion—Sam words, there, fancy-like—is that Dean can still be afraid for himself. That whatever he’s poured out in whiskey, whatever he’s called mere adrenaline, he can still float out beyond the breakers in a dark muddle of fear. He can want safety for himself, independent of Sam. 

His fingers leave the bandage; touch the curve of his cheek. No burn there. And he still has two eyes.

They made it out. Sam made it out, which matters so much more. They even catch a few reruns of Scully and Mulder, days later. Even enjoy them.

Dean is nostalgic, pretends he’s not. Pretends what horrors that lived in that house are nothing compared to the building worry over _Sam Sam Sam_ , because, in truth, they are.

He’s tangled with human evil before. Brought his fists to it in dive-bars, ran from it in motel parking lots. But that was years ago. This is life from twenty-seven backwards, divided into unreachable parts. The son John left to work alone, the brother Sam trusts now, shouldn’t be the same boy who had to beg some nights for sleep.

“You must have been pissing yourself, waking up in that cage.”

Sam shrugs. Doesn’t take the bait, which is good, because Dean doesn’t want him to. “I knew you’d come.”

(This is on the walk back.)

“Aw, I’m touched.” His head aches, his shoulder shrieks, seared with panic. His feet are heavy in his boots.

“I’d come for you.” Sam says that like he’s proving himself. Maybe he thinks he still is. Maybe, even after the scarecrow god, he still thinks he has to.

“Thanks,” Dean says. The word sounds weak. It is weak, to leave that word alone. Not to joke or pretend that everything is as it should be.

The burn heals, like everything does. It makes something serviceable, pink and smooth, that doesn’t hurt but isn’t quite the same. Dean catalogues it with the rest of his scars and doesn’t think of it otherwise.

With fear, that’s how you make it back to shore.


End file.
